get it right this time, i'm throwing lassos at the sky
by JannP
Summary: The circle of trust needs to be small, but he also really needs his not-wife to stop trying to kill him. It's a bit of a conundrum. And he really isn't ready for her to be the last person he's kissed or touched, thank you very much. Tag to 3x23 "My Name Is Oliver Queen." Oneshot. Oliver/Nyssa convo but Olicity/Nysara/Olisara (is that a thing?) overtones.


_A/N: I'm officially addicted to Arrow. This is a brief tag to 3X23/My Name is Oliver Queen. Am I the only one that noticed Nyssa didn't really keep trying to kill Oliver after the wedding? I feel like there was an exchange and this is what I came up with. Please review and let me know if I'm doing these characters justice._

 _Disclaimers: I don't own Arrow. Title and inspiration provided by "My Blood is Full of Airplanes" by The Cinema._

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 **get it right this time, i'm throwing lassos at the sky**

The circle of trust needs to be small, but he also really needs his not-wife to stop trying to kill him. It's a bit of a conundrum.

And he really isn't ready for her to be the last person he's kissed or touched, thank you very much. He's in the ultimate 'do what you have to do' sort of situation and he knows there are no illusions about that for anyone involved (least of all him), so it wouldn't be infidelity, but…

There are just some lines he can't go backward over once he's crossed them. He'll trip. Sleeping with the last girl he'll ever genuinely love was definitely one of those lines and if he trips _now_ he'll die. The last thing he'll ever want to take back is that last night he shared with Felicity here in Nanda Parbat. It was perfect and he wants it to be the last night like that he ever has. It was _that_ good.

Not to mention his flexible morals are twisted up in knots of right, wrong, Sara, Nyssa, Felicity…

… let no one who knows even a few of his secrets ever say he lacks depth. Billionaire playboy him didn't have these problems and he'd love to get back to that more simple place in his life – even though very few know he's left that place in his life.

Even Nyssa apparently has no idea.

The first time anything he's doing makes a real dent is when they're walking to his quarters and he starts to feel a little sick. Ra's used the word _bedchamber_ and he had to keep the very _Oliver_ look off his face in the moment. Nyssa had no such restraint and he knows she's still got the knife from their 'ceremony' stashed somewhere. And yes, they're all leaving but there's just enough time for a quickie, apparently.

Ra's locks the door behind them and footsteps echoing down the hall give Oliver, who is not just a memory no matter how often he says it, his opening. Although he advances toward his hostile bride, he holds his hands out and keeps his voice low.

"Relax, Nyssa. We're not doing this."

"We just did!" She says, flapping her arms a little and raising her voice to emphasize her point. "What do you suppose is going to happen when I'm not…" She trails off and he sees that disgusted look cross her face again.

"It won't get that far," he promises. He's standing right in front of her now. Ra's is old-school, doesn't employ devices like cameras or GPS, but Oliver wouldn't be surprised at all if someone is listening outside or using a mirror in the crack under the heavy door to spy. This will at least look like they're possibly doing something intimate. Then again, letting her in on this plan _is_ intimate and he doesn't trust her. Still, he needs her to stop trying to kill him and it'd be an added bonus if she didn't kill herself yet.

She raises an eyebrow. She knows probably way too much about his virility since he was the last person to have sex with her 'beloved' before said beloved died. This is all getting a little incestuous for his taste, especially considering it started with a cruise and him playing sisters against each other.

He shakes his head. "No, I don't want to have sex with you. I don't want to have children with you. I don't even want to stay here that long," he admits. "You just have to trust me."

"You couldn't protect Sara."

Oliver sighs and rests his hands on her arms, just above her elbows. His touch is light. He's never touched her like that before and he's never used this voice with her before. That she doesn't flinch speaks volumes. She trusts him more than she wants to say, or at least she trusts how much he doesn't want to be doing what he's doing. "You don't need me to protect you," he says. "Besides, we have a common purpose if you'll just stop fighting me for a few minutes."

Her eyes narrow. "You have no intention of taking your rightful place as my father's heir."

"It's not my rightful place," he says. "I know where my rightful place is, and it's not here, but I can't take it with all _this_ hanging over my head." His eyes dart away from her for a minute, fixed on the golden threads of a rich red tapestry adorning the wall. The warm mix of colors doesn't register with him, though, doesn't sink through the cold and distant armor he wears like a second skin these days. He doesn't feel the words he speaks and, honestly, that's a problem. He can't allow himself to, though. Not right now. "I loved Sara. Not the way you love Sara, but I loved her and now there's… I can't pretend to understand what you're going through while those who harmed her live. I'm not going to try. I know how I feel about it and what I'm willing to do right those wrongs, and it's probably not a fraction of what you feel." He sighs. This is more than he's actually _said_ to any one person about any one thing in a long time. He's terrible at explaining himself. It feels awful for someone so ruled by action to be limited by words. "I understand having that _one_ , though. I'm not going to make you betray yours – or betray _mine_. Our marriage is temporary, not _legal_ , and in name only. I promise."

"Do you really think Felicity will forgive you? She believes you're no longer the man she loves."

"I don't know," he says. He doesn't bother explaining that his plans don't exactly go that far. "All I know is you need to stop trying to kill me and I'm not going to try to kill you."

"And my father isn't going to be suspicious if I stop fighting now? You haven't thought this through at all."

Oliver sighs again. This girl doesn't do _soft_ or _patience_ or _please_. He can't charm her into doing this, not only because he doesn't have the energy after not allowing himself to be himself during the course of all this. She won't be charmed. She isn't a petite blonde with a babbling problem who can outsmart him and outcharm him on an off-day, but still allow him to get his way with a head tilt and a smile. It isn't that easy here because she doesn't adore him in spite of all logical thought.

"I didn't say you have to stop fighting. I just said stop fighting _me_. Let me do this."

"As you wish," she says, the heavy sarcasm lacing her unusual accent. She steps into him. She must've caught on they need to make this look real, somehow. She begins the intricate work of unlatching his jacket and unlacing the front of the black undershirt he's wearing. He knows she isn't going to take it off, but they'll both need to look rumpled. "I don't like not knowing the plan."

He arches an eyebrow. "Yes, but you're a little less homicidal now," he says, relaxing as much as he probably ever will around her as he reaches up to undo the crazy and intricate headpiece she wore for their ceremony. He doesn't know whose tradition it is, but it looks oddly stiff and formal on her – and definitely not leather enough.

"Your plans are given to failure."

"Touche," he responds quietly. "Yours don't seem to fare much better with me around, and there's only one way for you to get out of this alive. I'm doing the best I can to ensure that." He doesn't know _how_ he knows to undo at least portions of the clothes she's wearing, but he's managing. Maybe he _is_ good at something.

Somehow, ' _able to disrobe dress clothing from any century'_ doesn't seem like a resume-building skill, though. Or like something he'll ever want to mention again. It'll go in the vault of things he's seen, things he's done, and things he doesn't talk about.

She does stay true to form in some way, though, trapping him on the bed with a knife at his throat for just long enough he thinks it might have made a mark. He allows it because then at least the covers are rumpled to keep up their appearance.

"You're going to have to kill him," she says quietly, just as someone knocks on their door.

 _Subtle_.

The Oliver in him, who is far too close to the surface, wants to make a smart-assed comment about it. While he never allows himself to fully lose control, so he understands the need to be _in_ control of something, he probably wouldn't have the arrogance (or desire) to force two people to consummate a marriage as part of a flight itinerary. This place is ridiculous.

Still, even with _Oliver_ at the surface, he knows what Nyssa wants and he knows he will never get his way with her if she doesn't believe her own desires are possible. She's driven enough she won't give into the 'trust me I have a plan' and just play her role unless it's the role she wants to play.

He licks his lips and turns to her seriously. He pulls the door open and he knows what they look like. She's changed into her usual black and he's in his 'casual' League uniform, but his shirt is loose under his unbuttoned jacket. Her hair is tangled and her quiver is in her hand rather than strapped on her back. This is as close to casual as they get. Finally he leans down toward her, door open and Ra's himself standing before them, watching with a sharp eye.

"One of us has to," he says in her ear.

He makes it look like he's kissing her cheek.

Even though he didn't do anything wrong, exactly, the small smile she gives him makes him feel terrible to be on the same page with her.


End file.
